


The Best Laid Plans

by fmpsimon



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Betrayal, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Multiple Endings, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:49:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fmpsimon/pseuds/fmpsimon
Summary: Prompto has a surprise for Noctis, but it's not at all what he had expected: a complete betrayal.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Noctis Lucis Caelum
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was based on a prompt. Please note, if you want a happier/hopeful ending, stop reading at the first chapter. For angst, continue on to chapter two for the "Bad Ending," as I'm calling it.

"Where are we going?" Noctis said, exasperated. He had been following Prompto for far too long with the promise of "something cool" at the end of the walk. He wiped the sweat from his brow on his forearm and replaced his cap. Prompto had been entertaining him with answers to his repeated questions, but now he stayed silent, not even turning back to flash him that mischievous grin that he had so often worn. The sky darkened as they walked and Noctis purposely hung back. He was a little wary of the alleyways and backstreets of Insomnia, especially at night, whereas they were all too familiar to Prompto, who had grown up in the inner city.

Prompto hopped a fence and Noctis followed, jumping down, breathless. He clung to the chain link fence, steadying himself and letting his stinging calves recover. "Prompto, seriously, where are you taking me? It's getting late, and you know how my dad is."

"Almost there," Prompto said at length.

Noctis exhaled heavily, putting his hands on his hips, before starting after him again. He caught up with him after going around a corner, and looked around. "This is a...dead end. What are we doing here?" He turned around and found that Prompto had stepped behind him, closing the only exit. He slipped his backpack off and rummaged through it for a few seconds, pulling something out and dropping the bag at his feet. Noctis suddenly found himself face to face with the barrel of a handgun. "I don't understand," he said, blinking. "What's going on? I thought we were going to an arcade or something." He put a hand on his hip. "Is this a joke? I don't have time to play games, man."

"No," Prompto said. " _This_ was always the plan," he said stiffly, his finger on the trigger of the silver pistol. His knuckles were white and Noctis thought he detected a slight tremor in his hands. His head was spinning, he couldn't understand what Prompto was saying.

"Are you serious?" Noctis said, his tone a mixture of disbelief and exasperation. "Put that thing away—you don't know how to use one of those."

Prompto scowled and fired a round past Noctis's head. "Hands up, Prince." Noctis did as he was told, suddenly confused and scared out of his mind. Was Prompto really going to shoot him? What did he want? "This was always the plan," he said again, taking a step towards him.

"Plan? What plan?! What are you talking about?" Noctis said. His own hands trembled now as he held them up in front of him. He had known Prompto for five years; they knew everything about each other: their hopes, dreams, and fears. Although, it seemed that Prompto had managed to keep some things hidden from him. "Are you really going to shoot me?" He was incredulous, he was confused—was this some kind of joke?

Prompto furrowed his brow, squeezing his fingers around the gun more tightly. "That was the plan," he repeated through gritted teeth.

"Ugh, stop _saying_ that!" Noctis yelled. "I thought we were best friends! What the fuck is going on?!" His breathing was labored and irregular, and Prompto just stood there, his eyes hard and unfeeling, seemingly unmoved by his pleas. "Tell me what's going on! If you're going to kill me, you should at least give me an explanation!"

Prompto flinched slightly, but didn't lower his gun. "You should know what this is about. I'm from Niflheim and you're the Lucian prince. I was sent here with instructions and I intend to carry them out."

"Wait, what about the last five years? Hell, what about the last five _days_ —that kiss—that was _real_ to me. Wasn't it real to you?" He searched his eyes for sympathy— _empathy_ —but found nothing.

"Kneel and put your hands on the back of your head," Prompto ordered.

Noctis obeyed, biting back a cry. Was this it? Some sort of execution? For what? Being a prince? For being born into a royal family? "Look," he said, as Prompto walked behind him, pulling his cap down over his eyes like a blindfold, "it doesn't have to be this way. I can grant you pardon in Lucis—immunity—so you can't be arrested or charged. We can be together and forget this ever happened!"

There was a moment's hesitation, and then he felt the barrel of the gun touch the back of his head, right below his tightly-clasped hands. He cried out, " _Please_ , Prompto! Don't do this! I'm in love with you! Don't you _know_ that?"

"No, you're not," Prompto said, his voice trembling. "No one could ever love me—not my parents, not my grandparents, not even you. You can't love a monster. And that's what I am. That's what I was created to be."

"That's not true." Noctis tightened his grip around his own hands, acutely aware of how the barrel of the pistol was no longer pressing against his head. "No one gets to decide what you become, except _you_. Nothing is predetermined—there's no such thing as destiny. You know that this isn't right...that you're only doing it because someone told you to. _They're_ the ones who are trying to make you into a monster, and now's your chance to show them who you _really_ are."

"Dammit!" Prompto cried, letting his arms fall to his side. "This was my only mission and I can't even do it! Why did you have to be this way—why couldn't you be the daemon that they always said you were?" Noctis turned around slowly, but kept his hands where there were; the last thing he wanted to do was make Prompto any jumpier.

"They wanted you to hate me, so it would be easier to kill me," he said. "But they didn't count on the type of person you are either." He shook his head slowly. "You're not a killer, Prompto."

"I can't go back," Prompto said miserably, and in one swift moment, he had the gun at his own temple. Noctis's eyes widened—he had no time to react, but he had to try—he had to move faster than the time it took Prompto to compress the trigger. It was very close range, but he had no choice. In an instant, he had activated his warp strike, harnessing the power of the crystal once again, to propel himself into Prompto. The impact was painful for both of them, but Noctis managed to get his arms around him to soften the blow as they rolled over the hard tarmac. The pistols skidded to a halt several feet away.

As soon as they untangled their limbs, they both scrambled for the gun. Noctis reached it first and held it out in front of him, ready to defend himself. He had the upper hand, though he didn't intend to use it, nor did he think he would have to. Prompto was defenseless now. "Why don't you just kill me?" he said, dropping to his knees.

"Why would I do that?" Noctis said.

"It's better than the alternative." Prompto hugged his knees to his chest and put his head down. "I can't stay here, not after this, and I can't go back home. I was supposed to kill you or die trying. They'll never take me back."

Noctis let his arm fall at his side, the gun disappearing into his hidden armiger. He slowly, tiredly, stepped over to his hunched friend—friend...he wasn't sure he could even call him that anymore—and knelt down beside him. He placed his hand on his shoulder, and Prompto's muscles tightened, but he didn't move. Noctis let his hand slide over his shoulder, resting it in the middle of his back, where his other hand moved to meet it. "I forgive you," he whispered, pressing his lips to his neck.


	2. Bad Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Continue reading for more angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Continue reading for more angst: this is the bad ending.

"I forgive you," he whispered, pressing his lips to his neck. "But...you know what I have to do now." He pulled away, brushing his nose against Prompto's cheek. Prompto stared at him, eyes wide and questioning. "I've already alerted the authorities."

"What? But you said—that's not fair!" The anger was returning to his eyes.

Noctis crossed his arms. " _Fair_ has nothing to do with it. Was it _fair_ that you've been spying on me for the last five years?" He clenched his fists. "Was it _fair_ when you tricked me into falling for you—was it _fair_ when you _kissed_ me?! Dammit!" he shouted. "Was it _fair_ when you pulled a gun on me?!" His grasp tightened around Prompto's shirt as he held him up. Prompto snarled and punched as the Crownsguard grabbed him and hauled him away. He managed to grab hold of Noctis's t-shirt, but Noctis wrenched it back, pushing his hand away. "Maybe a few months behind bars will help you repent!" he spat.

"Let me take you back to the Citadel, Prince Noctis," said one of the Crownsguard.

Noctis shook his head. "No, thanks. I'll walk," he said stiffly. He waited a minute, allowing time for the guards to all leave, then he headed out of the alleyway. Everything he'd said...it was how he really felt, but there was so much left unsaid. Like how hurt he was by the betrayal, and the reason it hurt so bad was because he really did love him. He hadn't wanted him to be arrested, but he had no other choice. It was the law, and treason was punishable by far worse than a few months in the Citadel prison. They would push for execution—that much was certain—but he would be there to stop that from happening.

He flipped open his phone, idly scrolling through pictures as he walked. Prompto looked so happy...how could he have been planning this all along? And if none of that was real, then...why was it he had this unbelievable ache in his chest?


End file.
